


Worth Your Tears

by Mazeem



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Merlin lies, almost canon compliant, and Arthur pretends, but a fairly mild one, or close friends, preslash, so just like canon then, talky talky shit, you pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazeem/pseuds/Mazeem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourteen men went to fight Kilgarra. Two returned, and they had to realise it sooner or later. They chose sooner, when Arthur had a raging headache and Merlin was so drained that he didn't dare to even heat bath water. Directly after 3.13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Your Tears

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this is something I wrote a while ago (obviously lol) on fanfiction.net, and so it presumes that none of the knights survived facing Kilgarra. Of course they did, so technically this is like ... divergent canon? or some such label? But anyway I hope you enjoy Merlin and Arthur angsty stuff, and can follow all of the unspoken shit I tried to put in (If you can, you get a fucking medal).

For a few wonderful moments, Merlin forgot. He was just casually strolling through the castle corridors, arm in arm with Gauis and the echoes of laughter in his ears. Then Arthur called him sharply and reality swung back into place, chilling his blood and wringing his heart. Again,

"Merlin!"

He had stopped walking and Gauis was looking at him with concern. Over his shoulder, he saw Arthur standing at the foot of a staircase glaring at him and over his shoulder, Gwen trotting up the stairs.

"What?" he called back, noticing only then that his voice was hoarse and his throat raw.

"Come on!"

"Why should I?" 

Arthur's face went blank with shock. Then, less imperatively, he repeated, "Come on."

Merlin was ready for a stubborn battle. His head felt like it was stuffed to overflowing with cotton wool and his emotions teetered on a knife edge; he was in no state to attend to Arthur tonight. But the look on Arthur's face wasn't his princely, masterful look, it was the other one. The human one. The look that spoke of nougies and apologies for water-chucking and thrown pillows and "What's wrong, Merlin?" asked without a hope of an answer but asking all the same.

He dithered helplessly then Gauis made up his mind by muttering out of the corner of his mouth,

"Has Arthur sustained a blow to the head? He looks as though he's feeling a little dizzy."

Merlin nodded, still staring at Arthur who stared right back.

"Yeah, he got hit right round the head. Knocked him flying. Probably landed on his neck too, thinking about it." He looked away, scanning the grey corridor aimlessly. "I've got to go."

"Are you sure?" Gauis' hand was firm and reassuring on his shoulder.

"Yeah." Then, quickly, because Arthur had turned away and was trudging up the stairs, he whispered, "The dragon. His name is Kilgarra." He ran after Arthur as fast as he could on stiff legs, catching up at the top of the staircase.

"I didn't think you were coming," Arthur said without making eye contact. Merlin shrugged and forced a smile.

"I thought you and Gwen would want some time together."

"She had work to do."

Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "And she couldn't get away from it for any longer?" 

Arthur rounded on him, his eyes narrow and angry in his dirty, sweaty face. "Just leave it, ok?"

"Ok, ok!" Merlin held both hands up in surrender. They rounded a corner in silence. "So, why did you call me?"

"I need a bath," Arthur replied curtly, massaging his neck ineptly with one hand. "I ache all over." 

Merlin sighed. "Was that it? You could have got any number of servants more capable of helping you bathe than me."

Another corner, another flight of steps. They were nearing Arthur's chambers now.

"That wasn't it." Arthur screwed his face up and the hand that had been still massaging his neck went to his temples, gently. "It was selfish of me." He spoke quickly and stared at the floor. "I can tell you don't want be here, so, that's fine. You can go back to Gauis. I know you missed him."

"Was that you trying to ask me for company?" Merlin asked incredulously. Arthur grunted. "Fine. Good, in fact. I can keep an eye on you for Gauis."

"Gauis?"

"He noticed you were feeling dizzy," Merlin elaborated as they entered the corridor containing Arthur's chambers.

"I am not feeling dizzy!"

"Of course not, sire. That's why we're walking so slowly." He didn't add that he was only too glad of the pace; his legs were not only stiff but rapidly becoming more wobbly.

"Oh, shut up." Arthur pushed open the door and gestured Merlin through. "Go and start heating the water."

Rolling his eyes, Merlin walked to the small side room where the wooden bathtub was kept and, gritting his teeth, dragged it across the floor. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem but lethargy was slowly approaching and the tub seemed to weigh triple its normal weight. Finally, it was resting behind the screen Arthur used for getting dressed if he thought there was a a chance he would receive an unexpected vistor. A quick peek into the main body of the room showed Arthur was already undressing. Normally at this point, Merlin would clatter around making heating-up-water-by-entirely-mundane-method-honestly noises to cover up a quick incantation. Now. Oh. He was tired. He clearly rememberd what had happened last time he had cast the embarrassingly simple heating spell in an unstable mental state and, well. Being boiled alive would surely be Arthur's perfect ending to such a perfect day.

"Told you I'd be useless," he called as he set about heating the water manually, in buckets held over the fireplace. He had never used the device before and he eyed it uneasily. It looked rickety. Arthur's reply fell somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

"What now?"

"Oh, nothing important. Just the water's going to take a bit longer to heat up than normal."

"God's wounds, Merlin, could you have said anything more irritating?"

"Yes," Merlin replied truthfully. It wasn't his fault ... ok, maybe it was completely his fault ... that Arthur had got used to the (unnatural) speed he heated bathwater at. Of all the stupid things to complain about, anyway. He'd just have to get dressed again, that was all. Not a problem.

His hands slipped while carrying a full bucket to the fireplace and in an instant he was drenched. He cried out in frustration.

"Merlin?" 

"Nothing! I'm fine," he replied with a voice that was now shaky as well as raspy. "Just dropped the water. It'll be fine." 

Arthur sighed heavily.

"I knew I shouldn't have asked you."

"No!" Merlin stuck his head round the screen and glared at Arthur. "I agreed, didn't I? Thought you'd be sick of the sight of me by now, though."

"No."  
Merlin didn't press Arthur (who looked worriedly pinched around the eyes) to finish that sentence. Wayward emotions weren't what he needed right now. Three buckets later (bath three-quarters full) and his frustration was mounting. Work wasn't distracting him as he had thought it would. Everything he was fighting so hard to keep right at the back of his mind kept creeping out and poking ice-cold fingers into his heart.

"Aren't you ready yet?"

"Almost!"

Finally he poured the last bucket of hot water into the bathtub. He proclaimed that he was finished to Arthur and then stumbled on numb legs to Arthur's bed, grabbed one of his pillows, put it on the floor and sat on it. Arthur turned around just in time to see him do it.

"Merlin! I have to sleep on that!" He scowled at Merlin's indifferent shrug then paused. "You know, you could have just sat on the bed."

"Nope. Just a servant, remember? And you're a prince. Can't have a servant sullying a prince's bed, can we?"

"You're not ..."

Merlin looked up as Arthur spoke, trying to hide the intensity that burned behind his eyes. It felt like magic but sharper. "... oh, never mind." Arthur disappeared behind the screen. "You'd better have got the temperature right after this fiasco."

"I aim to serve," Merlin whispered to his crossed legs.

"No, you don't."

Merlin's lips twitched upwards but he made no reply. He was cold and tired and sick with a bone-deep grief that was worming its painful way out of his self-control and if Arthur didn't like tears then tough.

All the same, as the first tear flattened itself against his filthy trousers, he fought to keep his sobs silent. 

Fought and failed;

"Merlin? Are you all right?" Splash. Arthur's head poked over the top of the screen and Merlin looked away in the stupid, futile hope that if their eyes didn't meet Arthur would leave it be. "What's wrong?"

"I think we've had this conversation a few times before," Merlin murmured. Arthur pulled an agreeing face but added in a cheery tone that rang oh-so false,

"Ye-es, but you've never, and I mean never, given me an answer that felt like the right one."

"Well."

"Look, what is it?"

"You'll scoff. Like you did with Balinor."

The look on Arthur's face was one of pure disbelief.

"I never 'scoffed' over Balinor!"

"But you didn't cry."

"Of course not!" There was a scuffling sound and Arthur appeared from behind the screen with a towel wrapped around his waist. "Why the hell would I? I didn't know him!"

"I didn't really know your knights." Merlin hadn't meant for it to come out so ... curtly. Arthur stood stock-still a step away from the screen. Merlin swallowed and continued despite his sudden misgivings, "I can't stop thinking about it. Twelve men died tonight."

"They died defending Camelot."

"But they died. Every single one of them and so quickly. Disemboweled, eviscerated or incinerated - we're the only two who came back, do you realise that?"

"Those are big words, Merlin."

The tone was teasing and he couldn't stand the idea that Arthur had the mental facilities left to even fake amusement.

"Stop it!" He scrambled to his feet and glared at Arthur through blurry eyes. A coughing fit blazed its painful way up his throat and he had to take a deep, slow breath before he could speak again. "I thought you were better than this! For all your talk about friendship and honour, if you can't feel anything for the death of all your knights, every last one, then you're even worse than I thought the first time I met you. Cold-hearted."

Anger flared in Arthur's shocked eyes and he snapped,

"Don't you dare call me cold-hearted!"

"Why not? Scared of the truth?" Merlin taunted with a desperate smile that had too many teeth to qualify as such.

"One more word like that and you're in the stocks."

"Oh, wow. Rotten fruit. I faced a dragon tonight." Merlin tasted the bitterness of telling the truth without seeming to.

"The dungeons, then." Arthur's face could have been carved from stone in its sudden stillness.

"Fine," Merlin said sulkily, shivering. "Absolutely fine. You do that." Temper and tiredness spurred his tongue to add sarcastically, "After you've had your bath, of course."

"My bath can go to hell!" Arthur yelled, his stony facade cracking just as quickly as it had appeared.

"What, with you in it?"

"If that's what it takes you shut you up, then yes!" They stood in thick silence, exchanging looks of frustration and fury. "What is it, Merlin?" Arthur asked at last, rubbing his head again. Merlin turned away and sat on Arthur's bed. A damp patch immediately started to spread around him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to annoy you."

"Do you mean it every other time?" With a sigh, Arthur walked across the room, around the foot of the bed and sat down opposite Merlin so that they were back to back and making the bed very wet indeed. Merlin leaned against his warm bare back. Strangely his shivering redoubled. "You're right," Arthur began carefully, "we were the only two to return. Don't dare to presume, Merlin, that just because I don't cry like a girl means I don't mourn. But tomorrow I must go to the Great Hall and meet with twelve families and have to tell them that their sons and husbands and brothers died so that Camelot could live. And they will look at me, Merlin, and think to a man, 'Why didn't he die instead?' Somehow, I don't think they'll accept 'Because I'm a prince,' though my father would have me believe that was all that mattered."

"What mattered," Merlin interrupted shakily, "was that they all died without so much as swinging a sword at the dragon. You can't tell me that's a heroic death." His back was gradually getting warmer but, as if in spite, his fingers and toes were freezing cold and still dripping water.

"No." Arthur's body suddenly twitched violently; if Merlin hadn't known better he would have called it a sob. "But, all the same. They were knights."

"Were."

"Enough." It was said without anger or pomposity at last and most of the fight in Merlin seeped away. Weakly, he leant his head back, resting it against Arthur's dry hair.

"I thought you were dead," he whipered at last and stared at the ceiling dry-eyed.

"Did you cry for me too?" Arthur was whispering as well.

"Would you have wanted me to act like a girl over you?"

Arthur grunted and shifted position so that he was lying down. Merlin nearly fell on top of him as he lost his comfy back support.

"See?" he said at last, holding his sore throat helplessly with both hands. "This was why I knew it wasn't a good idea, me being here tonight."

"Funny," Arthur said with a soft laugh. "This was why I knew it was."

Merlin turned to look at him, one hand resting a fingerswidth from Arthur, right in the middle of the damp area. He pulled a confused face. Arthur elaborated,

"Only we know what happened out there. There's no-one else who would understand."

Merlin smiled sickly, fed up of the deceit.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, please drop me a kudos or a smiley face comment or something so that I can feel loved and appreciated. xD I've got more Merlin stuff to post :D


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